


Hold Still

by Jamjar88



Category: Soundgarden (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26299474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamjar88/pseuds/Jamjar88
Summary: This was a request I got on Tumblr for Chris fluff :)Prompt from Drabble Challenge by Katie-girl-2 on TumblrSet around 1990.
Relationships: Chris Cornell/Reader
Kudos: 9





	Hold Still

“Chris, just hold still!”

You sighed in frustration, trying to tease the tangles out of his long black curls and failing miserably as he jumped up from the floor where he had been sitting. You sat back on the sofa, putting down the comb, and couldn’t help but smile as he strode through to the kitchen, calling, “We need to _drink_ more!”

“Chris, we don’t need to drink more, honey, you need to go to _bed_.”

He reappeared holding the half bottle of wine he’d stolen from the restaurant on his last shift, along with one tumbler and one chipped mug. Chris never had the right things. Framed in the doorway, you couldn’t help but marvel at him though. His long body, toned and gorgeous in his usual all-black. His tumbling hair, mussed and tangled from the show, the way he carelessly pushed it back off his face with an elegant hand. His kissable mouth, so quick to laugh. Laughing at you now, like he always did when he caught you staring at him. Chris wore his beauty lightly, he knew it wasn’t all he had. His blue-green eyes were hazy with exhaustion, exhilaration, and yes, too much Bushmill’s, and they danced in the dim twinkle of the Christmas lights he never got around to taking down. It was July.

“Now this is a _very_ nice 1966 Chateau La Tour,” he said expansively, that irresistible smile tugging at his lips, wanting me to play along, “and it would be a crime to let it go to waste.”

“Chris, that wine has been open, like, forever. I’m not drinking that.” You sat cross-legged on the sofa, pulling your cardigan around your shoulders and thinking about bed. The guys hadn’t gotten offstage until after midnight; then they’d heard about the Grammy nomination, and all bets were off. Somehow you’d eventually gotten Chris home, tried to relax him by combing out his hair which usually soothed his chaos - but it was coming up to dawn, and here he was still vibrating around the tiny apartment, not wanting the night to end. 

“ _You need to pinch me,”_ he’d said, the widest smile splitting his face as you danced on the sticky floor of the Central, surrounded by bodies and noise, euphoric. “ _Just, like, pinch me, this is not happening.”_

He sank to his knees next to the sofa, clumsily pouring wine into the mug and offering it to you, before changing his mind and offering you the tumbler instead, which made you giggle, because he was ever the gentleman, regardless of his inebriated state. “To you,” he said, touching his mug to your glass. Your heart was full as you looked at him. This beautiful boy. Everything was going to happen for him, everything.

“To _you_ ,” you said back, shaking your head when he raised an eyebrow, about to interject. “May you never prep another seafood platter.” He grinned, and you touched his hair, feeling him slightly lean into you.

“I will drink to that.”

You sipped some of the wine and made a face, he did the same and burst out laughing. 

“OK, uh, wow, that’s a little… yeah.” 

He took the glass from your hand and set it on the side table, then scooped you up easily off the sofa into his arms saying, “Plan B it is” - and carried you into the bedroom, despite your giggling protests. 

He set you down on the bed and started to kiss your neck, which only made you giggle more, and he pulled back saying, “I’m real glad I amuse you this much,”, his blue eyes glittering. 

“You are definitely,” - you managed in between him kissing you - “amusing.” 

As much as he was being hilariously cute, he had that instant effect on you, and he knew it. You ran your hands over his chest, breathing him in, his dark curls tickling your exposed skin. He started to unbutton your shirt and kiss your chest irresistibly. You reminded him that you needed to be up for work in 3 hours, and he groaned, “Fuck. You think your boss likes the Grammys?” 

“Uhhh, I have no idea, but _stop!_ ” you said reluctantly, as he pulled off his shirt, he knew it always got you. His body in the half-light of the bedroom was perfectly sculpted, and you could do all sorts of things to him right now, but you had to be the sensible one.

“Not falling for it. _Sleep!_ ” you said, pulling him down next to you. He nuzzled into your neck and kissed you gently, his lips incredibly soft, his skin so smooth.

“Chris,” you breathed, and he looked at you. It was these moments, alone in his tiny apartment when the world slept outside, that you saw him, really saw him. Not the brazen rock god on the stage. Just Chris. He was gorgeous, but he looked so tired sometimes. 

“I’m really proud of you.” 

“You better always be here,” he said then, softly. You looked in his eyes, suddenly confused. As if there could ever be a world for you without Chris in it. 

“I always am.” you whispered, and he laid his head down on your chest, finally at peace. You gently combed his hair with your fingers. Wanting to keep him like this forever.

“Just hold still.”


End file.
